I’d done my best to be a good guest by engaging with Jake and Brian and I had to admit that their lives were interesting. If things had played out differently, would I have made a decent rancher or law enforcement officer? It was hard to imagine. Both of those roles would require that I stay in one place, and that wasn’t for me. Still, I could talk about and contemplate the “what-ifs.” Once again, I was thankful for the social skills my parents had instilled in me and the years of making conversation with strangers on the rodeo circuit.
Overall, brunch had gone…okay, even if Laura spent more time staring at her food than participating in the conversation. A couple times, I’d thought of asking her a question, but her shoulders had been upso tight against her ears that I’d decided not to risk making things more awkward.
Henry asking me to go see his horse was just the excuse I needed, and I was glad to be in the open air with my young companion. I figured my outing with Henry reduced the stress for everyone by putting some distance between us. While I’d been stunned when I’d met the Thornes and seen the resemblance between us, I’d at least known I was adopted. For Brian and Jake… finding out they had an older brother they’d never even conceived of before must have been a shock.
“That’s the arena where I get to ride sometimes.” Henry pointed to a fenced area. “And behind those trees is a stream I like to wade in.”
“Any fish in that stream?” I asked.
“Uncle Brian says there are, but I’ve never caught any because I’m not pa…pa…”
“Patient?” I suggested, remembering what it was like to be a boy who never sat still long enough to let a fish eat the worm on the hook.
“Yeah, that’s the word Mom uses.” Henry gave a yank on my arm. “Through here.”
We ducked into the shade of the barn. I breathed in the familiar scent of horses, manure, and feed that gave me a contented, warm feeling. I had been in any number of barns just like this one over the years, but I noted the Thorne ranch barn was organized and tidy. I guessed that was Jake’s work. For the first time since my arrival at the ranch, the tension left my shoulders. Only time would tell if the Thornes would ever really come to feel like family, butthisfelt like home.
“Here, let’s get some treats.” Henry took the lid off a wooden bin and handed me several pellets made from alfalfa and molasses. “The horses expect it.”
We worked our way down the stalls, giving treats and nose rubs to various horses. Henry made a point of introducing me to every horse, and I took the time to say hello and admire them. Good stock, all of them, and well cared for. “Where’s your pony?”
“King’s at the end of the row. Uncle Jake says I should pet all the horses, so none of ’em get jealous.”
“Your uncle is wise. Horses have feelings.” That was a lesson I had learned as a kid, too.
When we reached the dapple-gray pony, Henry fed him the last of the treats, and like every good horseman, the boy checked the animal over, running his hand down King’s legs. I wasn’t sure that Henry understood exactly what he was looking for, but he’d been well trained.
“Can I ride him? Mom says I have to have a big person around, and you know about horses.” Henry turned pleading eyes on me.
“It’s okay by me,” I said, “if you’re sure your mom won’t mind.”
“Nah,” the boy assured me. “I ride all the time.”
I helped Henry saddle the pony before leading the animal out of the barn. Two barrels were already in place in the arena. Spotting them, I realized it would be easy to take the boy through some basic barrel racing exercises. Teaching Henry would give the boy something to remember me by when my time in this town came to an end.
“Let me give you a boost.” I helped Henry into the saddle, making sure to check the girth strap and length of the stirrups before letting Henry ride on his own. “Have you done any barrel racing?”
“I tried it once,” Henry said. “Will you show me?”
“Sure thing, kid.” I thought back to when I learned the techniques used for the rodeo event. I’d been Henry’s age and my parents had letme take riding lessons. I’d begged for the privilege and reasoned with them that every kid in Texas knew how to ride. My mother, a native Texan, understood, though my dad, born in England, didn’t quite get the fascination with western style riding. But he had wanted his son to be happy, so riding lessons became a staple of our lives. I remembered my excitement at riding independently and caring for my horse.
“Okay, let’s walk around the barrels in the pattern you’d use in the event.” I took it slow, leading Henry’s horse first around one barrel and then crossing to the second and back to the starting point. “You see how that works?” I asked as pony and boy went through a second time.
“Yep. I’ve got it,” Henry announced as he tightened the reins in his hands.
“I’m staying with you, and we’re going slow,” I cautioned, but I felt a sense of pride when Henry completed one perfect circuit. It wasn’t fast, but the technique had to be learned first.
Teaching him was more fun than I had expected. Henry was quick and already knew plenty about horses, which made it easy, but I found that I intuitively knew how to direct him—when I needed to put my hand on the horse’s withers and when to let Henry keep control. The idea I had long harbored about opening my own training facility resurfaced. Hell, that was twice in the past few days that I’d thought about what had once been my dream.
How possible was it to make it a reality? Then, the nagging voice in my head reminded me that I’d have to own property and horses, manage a business, and stay in one place. I wasn’t sure I was cut out for any of those things. Especially the latter.
I took my focus off Henry for just a second and the boy spurred King forward too quickly and cut close to a barrel, nearly unseatinghimself. Sprinting alongside, I grabbed Henry’s shoulder, my touch keeping the boy in the saddle.
“You’re all right, buddy. Take it a mite easier,” I said while making sure the boy had his horse back under control before I let go.
“What are you doing?” Amy’s voice cut across the space between the ranch house and the arena. Both Henry and I swung our heads in her direction.
“Uh-oh,” Henry whispered and bit his lip.
